Page 150 of Companions of Their Youth
Both girls gasped—Georgiana with a pale hand to her mouth, Lydia with a dropped jaw.“What?”the youngest Bennet sister exclaimed.
“Where is he now?” Georgiana asked quietly, her voice tremulous.
“In the Meryton gaol,” Elizabeth replied. “He will most likely be hanged, or transported, or sent to debtor’s prison for the remainder of his life. Either way, he is out of our lives—permanently.”
Georgiana exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Good.”
Lydia suddenly leaned forward, brows furrowed in mock offense. “Wait—wait! You have been calling himDarcy! Lizzy, so scandalous!”
Elizabeth laughed. “Well, that brings me to the second reason I came upstairs. Last night, before supper, Mr. Darcy asked Papa for permission for my hand. And during the final course, our engagement was announced along with Jane’s to Mr. Bingley.”
Georgiana let out a delighted little gasp and rushed to hug her. “Oh, Elizabeth, I am so happy! This is the most wonderful news!”
Then she turned and flung her arms around Lydia too, who squealed, “We are going to be sisters! Forreal!”
Their laughter and giddy celebration carried all the way down to the breakfast table, where Mrs. Bennet was already fluttering in a rapture of maternal delight.
“Oh, two daughters! Two!” she trilled. “And both to such good men!”
Mr. Bennet raised an amused brow over his teacup. “It helps that they are rich.”
“Of course it does!” Mrs. Bennet declared without the faintest hint of shame. “But more importantly, they will treat my girlshonorably. That is all I have ever wished for… and, of course, plenty of pin money for my beautiful daughters.”
The entire table burst into laughter at her shameless candor.
After breakfast, Elizabeth excused herself and returned to her room. She sat at her writing desk, pulled a fresh sheet of paper from her drawer, and dipped her pen.
Dearest Mark…
She paused, tapping the nib once, and then began to write—carefully omitting details that might arouse suspicion should the letter go astray. No mention of pistols or court-martials, only that there had been a distressing incident with an officer, but that all was now well. That Georgiana was thriving. That Jane and Bingley were engaged.
Thatshewas engaged.
It took some time to get the phrasing right. When she had finally sanded the last line and sealed it, she sat back with a long sigh.
She was perfectly happy.
Almost.
One thought still lingered, tugging at the edge of her contentment.
Darcy did not know. About Stephens. About her father. About the deeper truths of her upbringing, and the shadow that still lingered at the edge of her family's history.
But should he?
She no longer feared his temper—no longer imagined him recoiling with cold condemnation. No, Fitzwilliam would not turn away from her. She believed that with all her heart. His affection, once given, was steadfast.
And yet… It is not my story to tell.
The truth belonged first to her father, and then to Stephens—men who had carried its weight far longer than she. Their silence had been deliberate, perhaps even necessary. For her to unearth it now without their leave… it felt like betrayal.
But what if they refuse?
What if they asked her to keep the past buried, even from her future husband?
And yet… when she married, her allegiance would shift. “A man shall leave father and mother and cleave unto his wife,” the verse echoed in her mind. It was not only about a man—it was a principle of marriage, of choosing one’s spouse above all else. She would owe her loyalty to Darcy.
She would soon vow to forsake all others, to cleave unto one man, to become his in name and loyalty both. Would that not demand complete honesty?
